Whose Is It, Do You

I Mourn My Old Life Here. We Barely Scraped By, But I Knew Where I Fit In, I Knew What My Place Was In The Tightly Interwoven Fabric That Was Our Life. I Wish I Could Go Back To It Because, In Retrospect, It Seems So Secure Compared To Now, When I Am So Rich And Famous And So Hated By The Authorities In The Capitol.

The Pain Over My Heart Returns, And From It I Imagine Tiny Fissures Spreading Out Into My Body. Through My Torso, Down My Arms And Legs, Over My Face, Leaving It Crisscrossed With Cracks. One Good Jolt...and I Could Shatter Into Strange Razor-sharp Shards.

Yes, They Have To Have A Victor. Without A Victor, The Whole Thing Would Blow Up In The Gamemakers' Faces. They'd Have Failed The Capitol. Might Possibly Even Be Executed, Slowly And Painfully, While The Cameras Broadcast It To Every Screen In The Country.

To Be Honest, I'm Not Much Of A Drinker. It Makes Me Sick, And I Hate That.

This Is What Birds See. Only They're Free And Safe. The Very Opposite Of Me.